Recent frustrations

So, as many people know, I'm in the middle of lots of glorious drama revolving around my attempt to get my gallbladder removed. I've been super healthy my entire life--except for a broken foot in 8th grade from tripping over a fake hurdle in P.E... don't ask--so I am not used to being "sick". Apparently, after doctors told me I had indigestion or bad heartburn (if one more doctor hands me Maalox in a patronizing fashion, I will hurt him/her. I promise), they finally discovered I have a gallbladder full of stones and sludge (medical term there, sludge) and a gall bladder that takes about a day and a half to empty, rather than the normal 30 minutes or so. When it does try to empty, stones and sludge block some duct and causes pain others have likened to being worse than labor. Gallbladder attacks mimic a heart attack, and so far there have been 2 delightful ER visits (and yes, since I know you're dying of curiosity, I got Maalox there, too). "Hello, I can't breathe, my upper left abdomen hurts to press on, I am nauseous, and I am 26 and have never, ever, ever had heartburn. By all means, bring on the freaking Maalox." Idiots.

After being pumped full of Demerol, and feeling quite drunk (or high, possibly--don't know, because DARE worked for me), I was sent home. This was July 18th. It is now September, and I am still trying to get an appointment for surgery. An appointment--just a plan for future surgery. If I can't get in till next March or something, fine. Peachy. Just let me know! I actually had an appointment today for surgery with Dr. X. I called to confirm the appointment, and after confusing all the secretaries in Dr. X's office, I was finally forwarded to a random Dr. Y's office. Evidently, I had an appointment with this random doctor whom I'd never heard of and who specializes in trauma surgeries. Yes, trauma. The cherry on top of this screwed up sundae is that the appointment with him wasn't even for surgery. And, alas, I find myself waiting not only for surgery, but also waiting to even be able to make the appointment for surgery, as Dr. X "will be out sick for two weeks starting on Wednesday." Wtf. That's not being sick. That's a secret trip to Cabo, dummies in Human Resources.

But in the meantime, I've got prescriptions for Vicodin, some sort of anti-nausea medication, and a self-imposed 0-2grams of fat per day diet (since the gallbladder is a holding cell for the liver to break down alcohol and fat, it should follow logically that the gallbladder is removed from the equation if there's no fat with which the liver needs assistance.) So, I should be golden until the horribly inefficient hospital bureaucracy finally squeezes me in somewhere. And if not, at least I know where to go to feed my newfound Maalox habit...